Three Years Ago, TUHF Headquarters…

“Workin’ overtime?” Sal said to Quincy in passing, walking by his room, everything in its place. It wasn’t much, hardly even customized beyond the base features that came with it, but it was still his in some way.

Maybe that bit of him was just because he was in the room at the moment though. He tapped away at his TUHF brand work computer, which was actually just a customized Windows PC with nominally different hardware.

“Yeah, they need me to sort out the paperwork.” Quincy said, tapping at the keys of his keyboard in the dark, the light from the monitor causing him to squint.

“Does that paperwork require you to put your fingers on ‘W’ ‘A’ ‘S’ ‘D’?” Sal teased, noticing that Quincy was actually just slacking again. He was playing some ‘highly acclaimed’ MMO that would go extinct in a year or two since it was created by a large company with no idea of what the modern day gamer wants and instead they just add a bunch of boring repetitive fetch quests. Take a guess if you’d like, I could be referring to many different games here.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Alright, just go to bed then Quincy.” Sal sighed. “I’ll handle your paperwork… again.” He mumbled the last word to himself, walking off. He was, in truth, headed to Master’s office. Although it had become a habit of his to always stop by with Quincy.

He always needed something. Not that he’d usually ask for help. But Sal knew Quincy was pretty much the biggest slacker ever at this point. He’d tried making the point clear to him that TUHF was not a place for slackers, and tried to veer him on the right path constantly, especially attempting to stop him from staying up all night playing New W- I mean Raid Sh- I mean, highly acclaimed MMOs...

He had never availed. At this point, Sal had given up trying to stop him, but he hadn’t given up caring about him.

In the eyes of TUHF, Quincy wasn’t even that powerful. And he was so bad at following directions, that it was a wonder that he hadn’t been fired years ago.

The only reason Sal could see that he was kept around is because his father owned the company.

Master. His motives were so strange.

He attacked TUHF a long while back, presumably trying to free Quincy and Selene after they were taken. Nobody knew of his immense strength, and thus he was underestimated.

He ripped The Golden Redeemer’s head right off his shoulders, dethroning the leader of TUHF.

And instead of taking his kids and leaving, he stayed. He took the throne.

He became Master.

And now, he rules TUHF. A lot of things changed, but their job was still the same. Protect America and its allies from villains. Sal couldn’t really care less. He kinda disliked The Golden Redeemer, and Master treated him well. Maybe it’s because he kept Quincy in line?

Little did Sal know of the awful things happening in Alaska right now that would have probably made him kick Master straight out of his office window into the streets below.

He opened up the door without those intentions he’d gain in a couple years though. He just smiled, seeing the man relaxing in his grand chair, smoking his pipe. He straightened his tall, royal purple collar and stood up, like a vampire awakening from his eternal slumber.

“Come in, then, Sal.” Master said to him. He spoke firmly, shooting metaphorical daggers with his eyes that shook Sal up a bit.

“You called, Mr. Whistlewood?” Sal replied, shutting the door behind him and sitting down. He hardly felt nervous, just ashamed with Quincy, and he was expecting that to be the conversation topic, as it often was between them.

The leader of TUHF didn’t speak for a moment, lost in thought. He came to his feet and walked around behind Sal.

On the back wall, next to the door he came into, several awards and trophies rested. Awards for excellence, next to children’s trophies for karate and judo. They were mostly participation awards. All but a single bronze trophy.

“My son and daughter. Lovely children, powerful children… pathetic at anything else.” Master monologued, rubbing his hands across each trophy, dusting them and flicking it upon the floor for someone else to clean.

He tightened his Rolex watch and turned to Sal. His hair was greying and his skin was wrinkled. His age was finally catching up to him, yet he showed no sign of weakness.

“They need to take my place. Yet they show no interest, and have no talent to do so if I did. Both of them would slack off while the world collapsed around them, they’d be perfectly content as they sink into that pit of snakes.” he said to Sal.

“I’ve tried to train Quincy, Tobias Sir.” Sal admitted. “And maybe I’ve didn’t do enough with Selene, but then she left and on top of that I didn’t want to come off as-”

“It doesn’t matter, Salvador. You have tried your best.” Tobias said with a forlorn look, crimping his frown in an attempt to hide his politically incorrect shame.

“In this world of heroes, appearance means everything, and Quincy has chosen to appear as a laze, and a wimp. Now, I must ask of you a difficult favor, an unfair one. One which will affect your appearance to your friend.” the leader of TUHF said with struggle.

He turned to Sal and pulled a piece of paper from his desk Sal hadn’t noticed. He saw the words, grim ones.

Notice of Termination

Employee Name: Quincy “Darkwind” Whistlewood

Effective Date: Immediately

Violating the Sacred Oaths of The Ultra-Human Force

Slacking on the job

General displeasure

Type of Termination: Removal from the workplace

Other: Disclosure of confidential secrets will result in criminalization, punishable by death

“You… can’t be serious?” Sal gasped, snatching it and affirming the words were real. “This… You want me to fire your son?”

“My daughter left. And she broke my heart. She would run from her beloved father like that? Shameful. Such things cannot happen again with Quincy.”

“So you’ll fire him? No offence, but isn’t that like… counterproductive or something?”

“And if he wants to come back, he’ll be accepted with open arms. He needs to learn he isn’t safe, and he needs to learn to fend for himself.” the boss explained.

“So, this is like a test?”

“Yes. Like I have tested him before. The Maine Incident, The Pit in California, and even The Texas Flamethrower. I will admit to throwing him into these situations to bring out his power he refuses to realize, the power in every superhuman. Now, he takes on the ultimate test. He must use it to survive without the help of other heroes backing him up, without medics to heal him, and without any of the luxuries TUHF offers him. He must only use his wits, his powers, and his inner strength to persevere for a mere one year. It may seem short, but it will be grueling.”

“Hmm… and what then?” Sal asked curiously, not necessarily enjoying the prospect of Quincy leaving, but for only a year wouldn’t be so bad. And it’s not like he truly had a say in this, he was just the messenger collecting bad news.

“I will be waiting for him, each day a pain, but a necessary evil. When he returns, he will be given one week rest, and then he shall take my place, assume the crown atop the building, and I shall have my rest within a grave. You, Sal, will be given anything you could desire on the day of my death.”

“You are far from death, Sir.” Sal said, still examining the powerful paper he held.

“Maybe so, but my death has been long overdue. I should have-” Tobias stopped suddenly, as if catching himself. “Nothing.”

“If this is what you wish for your legacy, I won’t stop it. But, my friendship with Quincy is special, and while I believe he slacks, and something needs to be done, I cannot kill what we have.” Sal said, at least prompting him to see if he’d reconsider.

“You must. For the good of TUHF. If I die and he doesn’t assume control, then your friendship will be lost, along with America itself.” Tobias patriocally saluted, looking to the roof.

“Give me an hour. I will decide.” Sal said, still reading the paper over, the same words flashing before his eyes multiple times. Termination. This would be unique. Quincy would be the first to be let go this way. TUHF was a job until death. He sighed, putting the paper in his jeans pocket.

“And Master,” Sal said, getting up from the chair. “The thing I desire... it’s your daughter.”

Nothing else was said.